


Self Love

by Armored_Dragon



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Sex, Spying, Three Year Gap (Dragon Ball), Vegebul, self love, vegebulocracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armored_Dragon/pseuds/Armored_Dragon
Summary: Bulma finds herself in a compromising position while Vegeta decides to take matters into his own hands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was in two minds whether to take the plunge back into fan fiction writing or not. It's been so long and my writing style has probably suffered from not exercising my creativity enough.
> 
> That said, here goes.
> 
> Your thoughts, comments and feedback are greatly welcomed.
> 
> **Edit: Should have mentioned this came about through a prompt on Vegebulocracy Discord.
> 
> “Peeping Bulma/ Vegeta’s Self Love”**

The door clicked shut behind her as Bulma slipped into her strange house guest’s quarters, arms full of newly laundered towels and clothes. She padded across the room, marvelling at just how clear Vegeta kept his room. It was a pleasant change from any other man’s living habits she’d been privy to - Yamcha’s flat was always littered with old pizza boxes, socks, unwashed training gear and, well, the general funk of man. Vegeta, on the other hand, seemed to prefer his living space clear of clutter, sparse and aired.

During his time on Earth, he had refused to personalize the room at all. A simple, double bed was pushed up against one wall, a small walk-in closet and en suite on the other. A set of double doors leading out onto a small balcony with a table and chair set, a laundry basket tucked in a corner and finally, a writing desk. If she didn’t know better, she’d think him dull, but Bulma knew that his interests lay elsewhere. His was a race of warriors, the fight seemed to be all they lived for. Material possessions were not high on their list of needs.

She dumped the armful of laundry on the made-up bed and started sorting. Towels into the bathroom, underwear - her face reddened at handling them - into the storage cubes in the closet, gym clothes hung up on the rails. She toed the door of the closet, leaving it an inch open out of habit - hers was a spacious area designed for trying on multiple outfits and putting on your party warpaint. 

Humming softly to herself, she placed the last of the clean clothes in their rightful place and then she heard it. The distinct click and scuff of the bedroom door opening. The cheerful song died immediately in her throat, replaced by a feeling of certainty that her guest would not be best pleased to see her here and meddling with his things. Bulma crouched low in the closet, tentatively looking out of the small vent in the base of the door. Maybe if she stayed hidden, he would just go straight into the shower, and she would be able to make her escape.

She bit her lip nervously.

***

Vegeta stepped into his room, and her scent immediately assailed him. He bared his small fangs in a snarl, taking a long drag of air, filling his lungs with her greedily - clean metallics from the lab and red apple from her soap. Bulma had been here, in his room and probably not that long ago judging by the strength of her scent. After a quick, habitual survey of the room for threat, he leaned back, turned the lock - he’d learned swiftly how to ensure some form of privacy in this forsaken compound where everyone was in everyone else’s business - and stalked across the floor, dropping a fistful of gym towel at his bare feet.

He had trained to exhaustion today, finishing early after having pushed through the night and all he wanted was a dreamless hour of sleep before he sought out food.

***

The bed creaked as the Saiyan leapt with feline grace, landing firmly in the middle and Bulma held her breath, realizing that making a quick escape might not be possible. Maybe he would fall asleep, and she could slip out then? She continued to watch through the vent, bunching her hands in the hem of her shirt in nervous tension.

***

He propped an arm behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, scratching idly at the angry red scar across his chest - a habit he’d formed not long after being returned to life. He filled his lungs once more with Bulma’s scent, taking as much in as his body would allow and then just a tiny bit more.

The woman did things to him. Low in the pit of his stomach. The barest hint of her having been somewhere before him made him ache in a way that he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit to himself. Weak when compared to Saiyans, the Human woman made up for all her physical lack of strength with an intellect and a fierce temper that he often found himself eager to be on the receiving end of.

Vegeta grinned sadistically, running the tip of his tongue across a fang. He thought his body would thank him for this respite, but it seemed he had other ideas, mainly of her - at her most furious, jabbing an irate finger into his chest like she could force him to step back by sheer will alone. It was preposterous to think about though that her slim little frame and weak strength could cause him, an elite Saiyan warrior to give ground. Sometimes he wondered though, if he did give ground would she advance and just how far would she go to drive whatever point she was trying to make, home?

He chuffed out a harsh laugh, his whole body tight and wound like a spring. Hot blood rushed from his head to pool low, leaving him flushed at the thought of her. How embarrassing, that the Prince of all Saiyans found such a weak and pathetic human-alien so intoxicating that the merest hint of her scent or her temper had him hard and ready for her. He swung the arm he was using as a headrest around and shucked out of his shorts, leaning back on his elbows and glaring at his manhood accusingly. He was hard and heavy - all for her.

Weak. Alien. Her.

***

Bulma’s eyes widened, and she jammed a fist into her mouth to muffle any sound. She watched the Saiyan sit up in his bed, sliding fluidly out of his shorts, his muscles rolling smoothly - in a way that made her extremely jealous. _I mean, if I ever tried to slip out of clothing like that I’d probably just fall off the bed or something clumsy like that! It’s so not fair that he gets such a perfect body and grace while I just get the perfect body…_

The thought subsided abruptly though when the alien warlord laid back, and Bulma got a front row seat to everything her guest had to offer - and boy was it an offering. Her cheeks grew warm in embarrassment at her predicament, and she wondered briefly why she couldn’t simply take her eyes off the prize, so to speak, and just wait until he went to shower. Bulma Briefs never backed down though, and she figured if she was trapped here until then, she might as well take in the sights.

***

Vegeta surveyed himself, the scars crisscrossing his thighs and chest, at the heavy length of his manhood laying unabashedly across his lower abdomen and navel. Gritting his teeth, he took himself in hand and pumped his length once, twice. Oh, he was ready, alright. It never took much for him to be ready near her - and sometimes he swore that she could sense on some level the change in him. He could certainly smell the difference in her scent, a tang that stung the back of his nose and made him harder for her.

The prince fell back in bed, punching the pillow in frustration with the back of his head, his throat working through a growl as he stroked himself - slow at first, the way he preferred. His free hand scratched lightly across the scar on his chest, and he blew out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding at the sensation - how he imagined her small nails would feel like dragging across his skin. He drew in more of her lingering scent, clutching at it thirstily, the fist holding his erection jerked out of rhythm unexpectedly and he gasped. He watched his own fist pump, his thumb swiping across the tip on each ascent, drawing his body’s natural lubricant across the head.

His breath grew quicker, panting and he swallowed a groan at the thought of her, how her small hands would look and feel so much better in place of his large fist.

***

Bulma didn’t think her eyes could get any bigger, nor her brow rise any higher. Vegeta, elite warlord, Prince of all Saiyans, prideful, arrogant and rude pain in her ass let himself go behind closed doors. Her closed doors might she add. Her cheeks veritably glowed as she watched him pleasure himself, not quite believing her good fortune. It was glorious, though, she admitted to herself. He was always so uptight and rarely let his expression slip from bored nonchalance most of the time unless it was to argue with her. But here, in his room, it all fell away.

Vegeta’s back arched against the sheets as his speed increased and she drunk the whole sight in greedily, every inch of muscle bunching and twitching. She bit her lip, pressing her thighs together, trying to alleviate the pressure building between them. She wanted to stroke his chest like he was doing to himself, wanted to replace his fist with her own. She wished she could be the one controlling him, driving him onwards to his undoing but she doubted he would ever consider her anything more than just a tool to get to his end goal.

A sound like a purr reverberated in his chest and grew harder, more sure of itself, morphing into a low, feral growl as he glared down his body, thrusting his hips to meet the downward slide of his fist. Bulma’s lips trembled, and she fought desperately to keep a plaintive sound from escaping. 

***

Vegeta felt himself climbing, felt the peak of pleasure just there out of reach. He screwed his eyes shut tight, pressing himself back among the sheets. He pumped himself faster still, reaching down with his free hand to press the pads of two fingers against his sac.

When the orgasm came, it washed over him abruptly. His whole body gave one final jerk, his balls tightening and finally, his cock pulsed once, twice, thrice, pumping his seed across his stomach. He barked roughly, hips still rolling helplessly, riding out his climax. Bulma’s scent around him was still so strong, and the man in him, the part that wanted her to the detriment of all his other plans clung to it, gasping as he came down from the high.

The room fell back into silence as the world returned around him and he lay there for some time, eventually becoming grossly aware of his expulsion drying on him. Donning his facial mask again, an arrogant sneer that warned off any useless interactions, he swung himself up, padding across the floor to the en suite. 

***

Bulma waited another minute after she heard the water to the shower turn on, staring at the empty space Vegeta had left behind, still not quite sure if she was daydreaming.

When she was sure he wouldn’t come out of the bathroom straight away, she frantically - but quietly - leapt out of the closet and made a beeline for the door, pausing only long enough to let her neat-freak urges overtake her and depositing the used gym towel in the laundry basket. She unlocked the door as silently as she could, slipped out and closed it behind her, taking one, two strides down the corridor before bursting into a full run, only letting the pent up squeal bubbling in her chest out when she was safely in her room, sinking to the carpet when her legs could no longer hold her up straight. 

She scrubbed her face with her palms, wondering how she would ever face him again with a straight, professional face.

***

A short time later, Vegeta stepped out of the shower room, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He stepped into the closet to dress and paused in the doorway, sniffing. Bulma’s scent was strong in here - which made sense, there were newly laundered clothes and towels which explained why she had been here - but what caught his immediate attention was the clean metallic and apple scent with an added tang that hit the back of his tongue and curled around his senses. His cock twitched in response.

“Kami-damnit, woman.” He snarled, loosening his jaw to take in as much of the tangy scent as he could, finding it irresistible.

With a concerted effort and one last long drag of air, Vegeta pulled himself out of the closet and went to swipe up the discarded gym towel. He paused mid-lean, staring at the empty space on the floor.

Frowning, he could have sworn he’d thrown it on the floor...


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After unwittingly providing a show for his hostess, Vegeta finds the perfect way to get some payback.

The stars in the sky above Capsule Corporation workers compound were all strange to him. Sometimes he thought he could see a familiar constellation among them, but mostly they were so alien - nothing like what he remembered in the skies above the royal palace, his childhood home on Vegetasei.

Vegeta stood on the roof of the Briefs family building, scowling, arms crossed over his chest armour and glowering at the stars, willing them to make sense to him. To this whole fiasco. At being stuck on this backwater planet with a bunch of weak humans and a country bumpkin Saiyan.

A light in the room below him turned on, casting the balcony in a dull yellow hue and he heard the scrape of the doors being opened to let the evening air in. He knew who it was, of course, Bulma’s unique scent drifted up to him - clean metallic lab surfaces and red apple.

Her shadow flittered briefly before retreating, and he caught himself leaning forward, straining to listen. He straightened abruptly, his scowl deepening and silently berating himself.

_Just what do you think you’re doing? She’s a distraction away from your birthright and victories to come._

_I bet she feels like a million battles won, though…_

It was an argument he had with himself nearly daily and one he never seemed to reach a conclusion to. Who really won when you fought yourself?

***

Bulma’s day after her unplanned voyeur session had slowed almost to a complete standstill. Since the incident in the closet, she had thrown herself at every piece of paperwork, filing, blueprint, half-built robot, half concocted experiment - anything to try and take her mind out of the gutter and into a semblance of productivity.

Nothing had worked. Her mind kept playing the whole kami-damn hot mess on replay and not even her most beloved inventions and experiments were able to replace the searing image of her alien house guest, naked, strung out across his bed and chasing his own pleasure with a fervour she only ever saw in him at the prospect of battle.

It was late when she returned to her rooms. She dialled the light on a low setting, opened the curtains then cracked the double doors open wide. The night outside was warm and clear, only a small breeze but the stars were all out in force, dusting the dark sky.

The new fleet of bots she had been working on would be ready in a day or two and pride swelled in her chest at the thought of her machines. These guys were MKIII and thanks to her genius when it came to code and programming, the fleet came with improved AI. Let’s see Vegeta destroy her mechanical babies when they could learn his attack patterns and avoid them, striking in the openings he left behind. 

It would serve Vegeta right, being so damn hot and arrogant and… and… so kami-damned _hot_. 

In her walk-in closet, Bulma shrugged out of her clothes and checked no one was hidden away behind a shoe rack or rail of clothes - you could never be too careful about people hiding in your closet after all. She left, satisfied her room was free of occupants other than herself and stretched, feeling her shoulders pop satisfyingly. She padded over to the dresser and eyed herself in the mirror. Bulma Briefs was a masterwork, perfectly proportioned with curves in all the right places, at the top of her game mentally and physically. She crossed her arms loosely over her breasts and wished fervently that for just one moment, Vegeta would only take notice of those facts and that he was behind her now, bodies pressed tightly together, his hand tracing her ribcage instead of her own while he trailed a line of fiery kisses down her neck, all the while holding her gaze in the reflection. 

Sliding the top drawer open, she lifted an assortment of lingerie out of the way and reached in to retrieve the best friend a girl could have during the single life - and even plenty of times during the non-single life, if one was so inclined. 

The vibrator was slim with a textured head, and she cradled it preciously on her way to the queen size bed that filled a large portion of the room. She was a creature of sensation, and as such her bedroom reflected this, lavishly furnished with plush carpets, silk sheets and an inexhaustible list of luxuries. Right now though, as she settled back among the covers, she spared a thought for a pair of rough, callused hands gripping her thighs almost bruisingly, holding her open for him.

She made a needy sound in the back of her throat, planting her feet firmly into the bedsheets for purchase and closing her eyes, conjuring up the image of her Saiyan prince in all his naked glory from earlier that day. Deftly reaching between her thighs, she slid two fingers into the soft, springy mass of blue hair, exploring and testing, finding that she was plenty ready. Using her fingers as a guide, she moved the adult toy, lodging it against the small bundle of nerves hidden beneath.

She never started on maximum speed - for all her perfectness even she couldn’t go from zero to sixty in a flat second - so holding herself open with one hand and carefully balancing the toy in the fingers of the other, she thumbed the lowest setting, pressing her head back into the pillows and closing her eyes, she sighed as the low hum thrummed through her body.

***

Vegeta started, torn from his thoughts by the change in her scent. It was so faint he almost missed it but for the slight irritation at the back of his nose. Tangy red apples and metal. What on Vegetasei caused that strange change in her?

There was a buzzing noise at the periphery of his hearing as well, and he shook his head in mild irritation, the sound just on the wrong side of annoying to his sensitive hearing.

Calling forth a small cloak of Ki to float him closer to her balcony, he leaned forward, practically upside down as he peered into the dimly lit room.

Bulma lay on the covers naked, and he could have almost mistaken her for sleeping until he caught the small movement of her hands and the long, slim contraption held delicately but firmly between her fingers. He lifted one dark brow in surprise. _Oh._

_Oh…._

His Ki faltered, and it was all he could do not to flail in mid-air before righting and tucking himself tightly against the outside of the doors, out of sight. The scent was much stronger here, lacing through the others in her room, but nevertheless there and his senses picked it out with annoying ease.

 _Well, that answers the question of where that… taste comes from._ He thought to himself, cheeks reddening as he realised that what he had thought of as a change to her scent when she was angry was actually far from the truth of it. Turns out humans had an arousal scent too. _Wait…_ His eyes hardened as he thought back on the times he’d tasted the change, mostly when arguing with her, occasionally when they had been physically close while she inspected one wound or another. 

Once in his room… His closet had been drenched in the same scent and the disappearing towel… Later, as he’d left his room to go in search of food the door had been unlocked. Vegeta knew damn well he’d locked that stupid thing and that he hadn’t put that towel in the laundry bin. His stomach turned and fell abruptly putting the pieces together. Perhaps Ms Briefs had gotten more than she’d bargained for that afternoon when returning his laundry. The thought should have enraged him, but instead, he wondered if she’d liked what she saw.

His feet, poised to take him swiftly away from there, turned back to the room.

 _Well now, this is interesting…._ Musing, he traced the length of one canine with his tongue, breathing in as much of the scent as he could, tasting it. Apples with a distinct tartness. It seemed Bulma Briefs wasn’t entirely immune to him after all.

Then she moaned faintly, and the sound curled through his senses, making his chest tighten. _Well, an eye for an eye was what they said so…_

The prince settled his broad shoulders against the doorframe lazily, crossing one leg in front of the other, arms in their customary pose against his chest. Let her open her eyes. Vegeta IV, Prince of all Saiyans, did not need to sneak or hide, instead, he drank in the sight of her, memorising each curve. She wasn’t like him, his muscles and body were hard and tight, designed for speed and force in battle. Hers was all curves and pale, soft looking skin, made for sinking himself home, for moulding around him.

The direction of his thoughts made him uncomfortably hard.

***

Bulma thumbed the middle setting on, her breath hitching as the increased speed had the desired effect. She kept her eyes shut tight, jealously holding on to her imagined partner as she dipped the toy lower, swiping up some of her own wetness before returning to stroke her clitoris with the textured head.

Her dream Saiyan knew all the right buttons to press and when. Instead of the pliable silicon, his tongue was rough against her sensitive skin - she had no idea if Saiyan’s had rough tongues, but in her fantasy world, they most surely did. _All the better to drive you crazy, my dear._ And his fingers, well, let’s just say her Saiyan prince knew his way around her body, one imaginary hand clamped firmly down on her thigh while two fingers from the other slid into her.

She whimpered, her body grasping around her phantom as she moved the toy almost imperceptibly. Her dream Vegeta was relentless in his pursuit of her, ducking his head, he mouthed at her clitoris and suckled, moving his fingers with aching slowness inside her.

Bulma hissed out a breath, feeling dizzy, holding the image of him ruthlessly in the forefront of her mind, her whole body clenched and unclenched in response to her dream Saiyan playing her body just right. She arched into him, rolling her hips in time to his controlled and purposely slow thrusts. He devoured her, his rough tongue greedily scraping across her flesh. 

She paused, momentarily shocked by the vividness of her own thoughts, her body giving a wild, hungry heave towards pleasure in response. She stepped back from the edge, smiling and drawing in a deep, steadying breath. Oh no, her dream Vegeta wouldn’t just let her go over that edge without him. The moment he felt her too close, he would stop, extricate himself from her body and kneel above her. His big hands would clasp her thighs, and he would position his cock against her entrance - even better, she now had an accurate source image - but then he’d just stop still. She would feel the effort it cost him, restraining all of his raw power instead of bringing it to bear against her.

Bulma tried to rise to meet him, but her phantom creation simply smirked, holding her down.

“Beg me.” The words shimmered across her mind, and she gasped, stroking the toy against herself, harder. She was surprised by the strength of her imagination tonight.

Licking her lips nervously, excited to play further with the idea, she whispered into the silence, “Please-”

***

Her skin was flushed an attractive pink and whatever fantasy she was living it must have been an extremely satisfying one because she was utterly oblivious to his presence in the doorway, eyes screwed shut tightly as her body rose to meet an invisible mate.

For a moment, Vegeta wondered just who this man was, that she held so tightly to her imagination and trusted with her body’s pleasure. She moved on the covers, her body rolling beneath whoever Bulma Briefs thought was her perfect fit. Her stomach was tense, he could see her clench and unclench, chasing her own pleasure and the sobering thought that she would do so left him oddly shaken.

Then she whispered a plea to the empty room, and it was nearly his undoing. He glanced down to see his foot step over the threshold, intending to go to her, do whatever it was she felt the need to plead for.

_No, you’re only here to get back at her, nothing more._

_Argh but she looks like sin and I bet she feels like it too._

His internal struggle was interrupted by a small, frustrated moan deeper in the room and he closed his eyes, calling forth all of his hard-won discipline and control, stepping back onto the balcony. He would have left then, but the moan turned into a pleasurable sob, and it was like fighting an immovable force, so once again, he focussed his dark gaze on her.

***

Her pleading moan was cut off abruptly as her mind threw her a curve ball, pleasure leaping and entirely missing the slow burn climb to orgasm she would generally experience. Her dream prince slid home in one fluid movement of his hips, joining their bodies, his hard hands clamping her thighs against his hips and she was briefly fixated on the colour of his skin against her own, or how his hard body was in stark contrast to the soft curves of hers.

Her stomach fluttered, pleasure travelling lightning fast from her core to her breasts to her swimming head. She sobbed, bucking against her imaginary partner, his hard length uncompromising and flicked the vibrator onto its highest setting, seeing her climax looming.

Dream Vegeta certainly didn’t disappoint, but then, she wouldn’t expect anything less from her imagination. The Saiyan leaned forward, planting his hands and bunching them in the sheets next to her head and shoulders, his body moving effortlessly. He withdrew then thrust back into her, and she could almost feel the physical impact. The bed would shake. Her body would rock. She would dig her nails into his forearms, and her prince would come undone, his arrogant demeanour would fall away, and her Vegeta would be an animal, he would grit his teeth and growl as he drove their bodies relentlessly, his heavy thrusts coiling her body tighter and tighter until it was ready to explode.

Then he would bury his face in her neck, inhale and time would stand still. Bulma breathed in deeply for what she knew would be the finale. Vegeta would sink his teeth into soft flesh, she would scream, seeing stars and he would thrust one last time his whole body tensing as he pulsed deep within her. Her carefully cultivated bubble of imagination shattered as her climax swept over her abruptly.

Bulma tensed, yelling unintelligibly to the room at large as she rode her orgasm for all it was worth, coaxing every new wave and rising to meet it.

It was over far too quickly. She turned the toy off and lay there catching her breath, opening her eyes to stare at the ceiling, reordering her scrambled mind.

***

The silence was heavy and filled with so many things unsaid between them. Vegeta felt short of breath just having watched her, and his jaw ached from the glands at the back of his throat greedily drinking her scent. Her arousal was thick and dizzying, he gripped the doorframe to steady himself.

“What, the beta male not doing it for you enough that you have to take matters into your own hands?” His cutting remark, slicing through the silence, was rewarded by her practically leaping out of her skin. “Next time, maybe you should try something a little more…exotic.” His grin was as arrogant and as contemptuous as he could make it, feeling a lot more shaken inside than he would let her see externally.

***

The words were mocking and dripping with so much sex appeal; it could only come from one source. Bulma jerked then froze, feeling blood rush to her cheeks - and every other extremity which kami-damnit were all exposed to the night air. Slowly, oh so slowly, she turned her head knowing exactly who she would find and wishing with every ounce of her being that it wasn’t the case.

The very real, very uncompromising Vegeta stood leaning against the balcony doorframe for all the world like he was right at home in her bedroom. Her throat worked, but no words came out.

The silence dragged on infinitely as their gazes caught and held. Then he grinned a challenge - that one-sided, arrogant, so unbelievably sexy half-smile of his and Bulma felt her proverbial wheels spinning before catching tarmac, she found her voice again.

A wail bubbled up her throat, rising into a screech as all the fury she was capable of mustering, focused entirely on him. She flailed on the covers, gripping fists full of them and pulling them around herself like armour, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and standing.

“Vegeta, what are you doing here? What do you think you are fucking doing!?” Fury set her blood afire, and she scrambled around herself, looking for something to throw at the arrogant jerk who was still very much standing there and not having even the decency to leave. “How dare you!? How. Dare. You!?”

Panic rose above her embarrassment, anger and frustration while her mind reeled for something and finally, unthinking, she grasped the vibrator and threw it with all her might at his head.

Vegeta caught it mid-air in his arrogant, no-nonsense fashion which just made her bristle further and she was about to give him another piece of her mind, gearing up for a famous Bulma Briefs verbal takedown when he blew out a short laugh through his nose, glancing at the object in his fist, then at her.

Her knees threatened to abandon her under that heated gaze, and she fought to keep upright. Vegeta held her gaze steadily and, bringing it closer to him with infinite slowness, touched his tongue to the tip of the toy, tasting her. Bulma swallowed hard wondering how he could get any sexier at that moment despite her utter horror at the situation.

He tilted his head, still holding her gaze unwaveringly and let the vibrator fall from his grip. It thudded on the ground.

Then he was gone, the silent thunderclap of his Ki igniting as he flew off thudded in her chest, the only other sound in the room was the thundering of her own heartbeat.

Her legs shook and gave way, sinking her to the carpet, still staring at the empty space he’d left behind, and she pulled the covers closer around herself. She wondered belatedly if she had at least given him a good show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'll be honest, I found this sequel chapter harder than I thought it would be. I struggled greatly with Bulma's viewpoint which was weird given I am a woman and I would hope I could describe what an orgasm felt like for one.
> 
> Nevermind, hopefully, the Vegeta viewpoints make up for it - just enough arrogance and cheek :D


End file.
